Therapy
by littlespider
Summary: Booth really hates therapy.


Ok, so I know that I should be working on my Lie to Me fic, but I was going through some old work and found this! I don't often write funny(ish) stuff anymore, so I thought I'd share what I did have.

Warning: Contains a random OC, and some making fun of Booth. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Um... yeah. Not mine.

* * *

Agent Seely Booth and Dr. Temperance Brennan stopped in front of the open door of their shrink's office. It appeared that he was with another patient, but he waved them in and the girl showed no indication of leaving. She stood next to Dr. Sweet's desk; she was a short girl with dark hair and slightly bohemian dress. Her nails were painted black, Dr. Brennan observed shrewdly.

Booth was the first to comment. "Hey, Sweets, what's with the kid? Babysitting?"

Sweets smirked slightly. "Ha ha. Actually, this is Courtney Chung. She's my intern."

Now Dr. Brennan looked confused. "Your intern?"

"Yeah, my grad student intern." He was met by blank stares. "Dr. Brennan, you have them all the time. Why is it so weird for me to have one?"

"It's just weird," Booth commented, "that the psych department seems to like training two year olds."

"Booth, judging by the maturation of her facial structure, she has to be at least fifteen," Dr. Brennan protested.

Both sighed. "Joke, Bones."

"I'm sixteen," Courtney spoke up, and Brennan looked at Booth pointedly. "By the way, Agent Booth, has Dr. Sweets ever told you that the condescending 'kid' thing you use to intimidate us is an attempt to mask your own insecurities?"

Booth shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Hey, nobody gets to psychoanalyze me, except my shrink."

Courtney smiled. "And his intern."

"And his intern?" Booth asked Sweets. "Really?"

Sweets nodded. "Yep. Technically, that's what she's here for. You know, hands on experience and all that."

"So what'd you do, ask for someone young and whiny like you?" Booth asked, smirking.

"You're doing it again," Courtney pointed out. "And I actually wanted to do forensic psychology, but my advisor thought I should start with something tamer."

"I'll say," Booth agreed sarcastically.

"And sarcasm is just another way of protecting yourself."

Sweets took one look a the tense couple on his couch, and turned to Courtney. "Can you give us just a minute?"

She shrugged and left the room. Sweets looked from Booth to Brennan. "Reactions, please."

Booth exploded. "Really? Do we have to put up with her for long? She's worse than you!"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Sweets chuckled. "Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan sighed. "I'd like to know how she came to be a grad student at such a young age."

Booth looked at her incredulously. "Seriously, Bones? That's it?"

"What?" Brennan defended herself. "She fascinated me."

Dr. Sweets pulled out a file and handed it to her without saying anything. Dr. Brennan studied the chart on the first page, and looked up at her psychologist in surprise. "When did she take this?"

"When she was four, right after she skipped straight from kindergarten into fifth grade," Sweets said, a grin breaking out on his face.

"I don't understand why she decided to go into psychology!" Brennan exclaimed, and Sweet's grin disappeared. "She could have done anything else!"

"Hey, ouch," Sweets complained.

"Uh, what's going on?" Booth asked, utterly confused.

"Courtney got her IQ tested as a four year old and got a 160. That's considered genius level!" Brennan stated, handing her partner the file. "But why she decided to waste her intelligence on psychology…"

"Dr. Brennan, are you seriously telling me that after all we have been through together, you still don't see the merit of—"

Booth cleared his throat, effectively cutting Sweets off. He was looking at the chart, head tilted to the side slightly. "What's with all you people and getting your IQ tested? Maybe I should get mine tested just to see what the big deal is."

Sweets fidgeted in his seat. "I don't think I would do that if I were you, Agent Booth. You… um, well…"

Brennan swiftly picked up where he left off, but not nearly as tactfully as he would've hoped. "What he's trying to say, Booth, is that you might be disappointed."

Booth scowled as he crossed his arms over his chest and slouched in his seat. He hated therapy.

* * *

Review?


End file.
